Cold Gaze
by Evil Is A Relative Term
Summary: A very dark AU in which Harry and Hermione are arrested and sent to prison by Umbridge. This is the story of their release years later. Warning: Dark content.


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: The same warning that is attached to all my Harry Potter fics includes this one. There is no guarantee it will be continued and it is an early effort, so I can't speak for the quality.

Harry Potter had almost defeated the greatest Dark Wizard to ever live. And he perhaps would have. If he had not been rotting in Azkaban for using Unforgivable Curses. At least, he comforted himself with the thought that Lord Voldemort now ruled the dementers and they no longer guarded the prison. Five years spent in the dark had a massive impact on his character. Harry Potter, former Boy-Who-Lived, was now the embodiment of everything Slytherin House was supposed to represent. His dark hair fell over his face, hiding emerald eyes that sparkled with something other than laughter. Sitting in a dank corner, he knew just how close he walked the line of sanity. But Harry Potter had never dealt well with betrayal. And the government who was supposed to protect wizardkind, using the same techniques Voldemort employed, but hiding it behind a quest for the 'Greater Good' was betrayal in its starkest form. And sometimes on dark nights, dreams of the screams of Dolores Umbridge comforted the boy.\

Cold cynicism had him in its grip. If he had known then what he did now, Sirius Black would still be alive. A close relationship with the darkness around him had taught him many lessons. How to lie, and the value of lies. The ability to judge dispassionately any situation or person. Just how satisfying revenge and pain could be. The prisoners around him had taught him the Dark Arts, and he had practiced wandless magic, though it was in no way as good as having a wand. Legimency and Occlumency came easily now, hiding the dark thoughts behind his gaze.

And he understood a man he once hated. Severus Snape had earned his respect as he had sat in this cage. And he felt pity for Draco Malfoy and his father. Harry Potter may have turned to the Dark Arts, but he would never abandon the Light. He thought Voldemort was just as wrong as he once had, and perhaps more so now. He had no ideas about conquering the world. There were far too many fools in it to bother. He had heard that his class had been commanded to remain at Hogwarts, which was now Voldemort's base. The Ministry was his major enemy, just as ruthless as he. Whispers had come to Harry, telling of how he had kept only the seventh years and a few select sixth years (including Ginny and for reasons unknown Luna).

But soon, very soon he would be free. And perhaps, he would see the face of the person he now felt closest to, closer than anyone in the world. Hermione Granger had stood proudly beside him at his trial, guilty of the same crimes. But she was a Mudblood, and had she been any other, she would have been executed on the spot. Instead they had shipped her away, to the same prison that housed Gellert Grindewald. He had seen the fear in Dolores Umbridge's cold eyes, and had known at that moment that as surely as Voldemort was his enemy this woman was Hermione's. And for five years she had been trapped in a prison he had never seen. He hoped, a nearly foreign experience, that she would understand what he had done, what he had become. But Hermione had always understood. Perhaps she would even stand beside him again when they tasted free air. He looked forward to seeing her like he looked forward to holding a wand again.

This prison had given him a new perspective on his friend. Something he had never realized before. Her ambition, to show everyone that she was just as good as they- her ruthlessness, any ends to achieve her means; a fact that had never before crossed his mind- her intelligence and talent, she probably knew more of the dark arts than he did. Her very Slytherin characteristics. And in the pit of hell he now sat, Harry Potter smiled a cruel smile. Hermione would understand.

He stood before the assembled Wizemgamot again. But this time, when he sat in the chair the chains had leaped to greet him. They had let him wash and that had revealed how time had changed the boy they had once judged. His facial features had developed, leaving a cold aristocratic mask. His face was all corners and shadows, the lack of food making it almost skeletal in nature. Green eyes had darkened in a way that wasn't physical, and they sat cruel and composed rather than filled with any righteous heat. He was taller now, and his frame was bound in lithe muscles that were defined by his lack of body fat. His hair, which had once stood messy and untamed fell nearly to his waist in a silken waterfall now that it was clean. For now it fell loose about his shoulders. They had dressed him in robes that imitated the Death Eaters, in what he understood to be an attempt to draw opinions about him that would cause the Wizemgamot to change their minds about releasing him.

He sat quietly, waiting for them to bring another prisoner. One that had suffered, just as he had. And when they marched her in, he nearly smiled.

Prison had not broken her. If it had, he admired the way they had put the pieces back together. She walked in, head held high. The six aurors that accompanied her followed her as an honor guard would a queen. He ran his eyes over his friend, familiarizing himself with her again. Her hair was no longer bushy in any way. Like his own, her hair had grown, and fell nearly to mid-thigh. Without its frizz, it was a magnificent dark auburn, nearly a deep burgundy color. Her skin was paler than Draco Malfoy's had ever been, nearly translucent from lack of sunlight. Harry himself had not fared much better, but it appeared that his natural skin tone was deeper than Hermione's, for while his was pale, she was nearly vampiric. Her frame was statuesque, her posture perfect. He would bet that muscles like a serpent's clung to her frame, thin as it was. Like a statue carved from marble, she was beautiful. Ever malnourishment had not hindered her development in some areas, and her lack of body fat in other places only enhanced her assets. Her eyes scared him the most, for like the rest of her body, they were cold and so very blank. They had always been brown, but now they were darker, with yellow flecks the only relief. Serpent-like, they surveyed her surroundings, calculating without emotion. She went to her chair like a queen to her throne.

And together they faced the judgment of the Wizemgamot. They were freed, and they left without ever looking back. Words were no longer necessary and they exchanged less of them than ever before. They obtained what they needed quickly and then they left Diagon Alley to return to the place Harry felt most at home. Hogwarts.

The Great Hall was assembled with Voldemort's prisoners, the class that to which Hermione and Harry had once belonged. They were kneeling on the floor at the moment, hoping not to incur the wrath of the master. Voldemort was receiving the news that Harry Potter had been released very poorly. Before he was locked away, the boy had managed to destroy five of his seven Horcruxes. Nagini was the only one left and she never left the Dark Lord's side. The divisions between Houses no longer existed. Lord Voldemort had decided, very recently, to use his prisoners to breed himself an army. He had taken malicious pleasure in matching people that had enmity between them. Only a select few had not been forced to do so, Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley among them. Ron, on the other hand, was kneeling next to Pansy Parkinson- one of the multiple girls he had been bound to. Voldemort had apparently heard of the Weasely family's proficiency in breeding. Even if Voldemort was defeated his work, like this here would linger on. His Death Eaters lived in their own homes, bringing him news from the outside. The teachers he had forced to continue in their positions, though his favored Death Eater Severus Snape now was the Dark Arts teacher.

The Hogwarts students kneeled before their master. In the silence that followed, laughter was heard. It was not the laughter that lit up a room, it was the laughter that of someone walking a dangerous line on their sanity. It came from the shadows behind the Dark Lord and a cold, deep voice spoke.

"I never knew snakes were invertebrates."

A woman's voice, as dangerous and vindictive as a serpent's hiss replied, "Those aren't snakes you see before you, but worms."

All gazes, including Voldemort's were turned behind him, and everyone had a good view of the Head Table at which he was seated.

"A pleasure to see you again Tom." the man said, and the shadows lifted.

The entire room gasped, for these could be only two people. But they had never seen them like this. A cold, aristocratic man with pale skin and long raven black hair tied back with a silk ribbon stood there. Heavy black robes cloaked his frame, but he radiated an angry power. In his hand he clutched a cane like a fashion accessory, and a silver serpent twined it's way to an emerald stone at the top. The emerald in his eyes was as cold and cruel as that which rested atop his cane, and any facade of cheer he had formerly possessed was long since banished.

Beside him was a dark goddess. Long mahogany hair ran the length of her back in a silken waterfall, and her skin was as pale as a vampire's. Her eye's glinted dark and predatory. She had a tall, lithe figure and her elegant fingers twirled the long black wand in her hand. Her gaze was fearless and sardonic as she smiled at him, white teeth perfect in a predatory gesture. The wand stopped twirling and the girl gazed around the room. It stopped when she returned her gaze to the Dark Lord. She and Harry exchanged only a glance.

It took only seconds. Few were able to even flinch by the time it was over. Harry Potter cast a single curse, only to distract the Dark Lord's attention. He spoke not a word, and neither did the woman beside him. In moments the Sorting Hat was in her hand, and then it was a sword. The Sword of Godric Gryffindor found no barrier at all in Nagini and the snake writhed headless. In that same moment, Harry Potter fulfilled prophecy. He used no Killing Curse, instead turning Voldemort's own back to him. It was all his own power, for the wand that had been brother to Voldemort's had been snapped when he was sentenced to Azkaban. And on the dias on which the Head table rested, Voldemort fell. And where once he would have done something, Harry Potter only watched with emotionless eyes as the Dark Lord fell. Harry turned to face the crowd and felt Hermione stand next to him, sword in hand still dripping blood. The castle's population stayed on the floor, stunned into motionlessness. It had been over so quickly- no grandstanding or massive duel. No more than four curses had been exchanged the entire time. But still the man who had begun life as Tom Riddle lay dead. Few had the thought left to wonder how Hermione and Harry had gotten in, caught in the fact that they were indeed here, standing before them.

They had all known them before, but the people that stood before them were strangers. Dark and powerful, there was something so very different that they were nearly unrecognizable.

Hermione Granger has changed, perhaps more than her friend had. Where Harry had always had a bit of the darkness and cynicism, Hermione had always been totally of the light. Even she had missed her own darkness. Until that day she had been sentenced by Dolores Umbridge to a prison she had only read about. Now, five years later, she knew more Dark Arts than she had ever thought existed. But Hermione was wise. She had balanced her darkness with light. Security was laxer in the prison she had gone to. And that had made it possible for her to interact with Grindewald's inner circle and the man himself. She had seen at once what had made him attractive to Dumbledore. He was not as dark as Voldemort, but in his own way infinitely more dangerous. He was charismatic. He did not need magic to cause people to follow him, for his words had a magic of their own. And he had taught her. She had found herself to be a natural Legilemins. And she had taken it a step further. If anyone was foolish enough to keep eye contact with her, not only were all their secrets hers, she could have the same effect as a dementer. She could give them their most painful memories, intensify them. She could manipulate emotions, make them feel love, lust, or hate. It stopped when they looked away, but it was power. Occlumancy had come with the same ease. Everything with magic was easy to her, with the notable exception of flying, and that was unlikely to change soon. It was easier on the back of a creature, but an inanimate object was more difficult. She too had developed wandless magic, but it was good to hold a wand again.

She did not survey the students. She refused to look at the ones Voldemort had brought to their knees. Instead she turned to the empty Head table and laid the Sword of Gryffindor down. She sneered at the body of the snake, and did not trouble herself to do away with it. Instead she made her way to the chairs on the other side and sat to the left of the Headmaster's chair. Harry joined her and sat to the right of the Headmaster's empty seat.

Her thoughts lingered briefly on Harry, and for the moment, she was very grateful that no matter what had happened or how much she had changed there was one person who understood without having to speak the painful words. Words of betrayal and abandonment. If she had been less controlled, she would have gripped her wand tighter, but she had trained for a long time to control all of her emotions. Umbridge would be dealt with soon enough, but they could not simply walk in and destroy her as they had done to Voldemort. Government was needed, Hermione saw that clearly. But first it would have to be purged of the laws that made it inefficient and corrupt. People too were to blame, people that had just as many followers as Voldemort. It was a delicate situation, and Harry would support her, but she knew what needed to be done and she would do it. Harry or no Harry.

"Harry? Hermione?" a trembling voice came from the crowd. Harry turned to look and saw the words came from a shaking Ronald Weasely.

"Your ability to point out the utterly obvious astounds us all, Weasely." Hermione said coldly.

"Stop shaking like a mouse, and stand up for once in your life." Harry commanded aristocratically.

Ron complied automatically from years of being ordered about, but his shaking only increased.

Hermione sneered at the tall, burly figure of the third part of the trio. He was well-formed, handsome, and well-fed. But her physical attraction to him was dead, stomped out by years of living in darkness. "Are you going to stop being a weasel, or was the lions roar just noise?" Harry asked.

Their audience gazed up at them silently and fearfully. Hermione made a sound of impatience and stood. She swept down from the dias into the crowd. The first person she came to was Professor McGonagall, who looked rougher than some of the others, having given in to her imprisonment only recently. Hermione's pale hands reached out to take her arm, and her former professor flinched automatically. A look of hurt passed so quickly on Hermione's face it may never had existed, but her hand was withdrawn slowly. Instead, she only spoke, with cold indifference, "Professor, perhaps it would be best if you took the Headmistress position for the time being. These students will need looking after, as it appears someone has broken them of the habit for themselves." A tiny spark of her old spirit seemed to motivate the old professor.

"Alright, everyone! We will get you home as soon as possible! Until then, please report to you assigned areas. Teachers, please stay! You too, Mr. Weasely." she called.

Everyone hurried away, but now they were talking and laughing. Hermione returned to the Head Table, but rather than taking a proper seat, she simply set on the tabletop near Harry, who came to lean next to her. The teachers were slowly assembling themselves in a loose semi-circle, and Ron was standing somewhat bewilderedly. Three other students made to approach, Ginny and Luna, and the surprising form of Draco Malfoy who had aged very well.

"Harry!" Ginny called as they reached the edge of the platform where Ron was standing.

"Yes?" Harry inquired coldly and Ginny looked taken aback.

"Don't talk to her like that Potter." Malfoy said firmly, if quietly.

Harry ignored him. "Well, isn't this cozy? Shall I call for some tea? Wine perhaps? Snake got your tongue?" Hermione mocked. "I think a cup of tea would be pleasant. How about you Harry?"

"Yes. Azkaban's service is absolutely dreadful, you know." Hermione snickered a bit and snapped her fingers. A rush of black flame made them all jump as a creature that looked like it had crawled from the gates of Hades formed before them. It looked like a strange cross between a horse and dragon, and crouched easily on the floor, it's back limbs formed to propel it forward at great speeds. A blood red tongue tasted the air from between double rows of cruel teeth, but its pupil less eyes made it difficult to determine where its gaze rested.

"Go see if there are any house elves down in the kitchen and have them fetch us two cups of tea. I take mine with two spoons of sugar and Harry likes cream in his." she said detachedly. The creature leaped right over their heads and sped out of the great hall, traveling in great leaps like a frog. "Now, perhaps we can speak of what happens next."

"Next? Didn't Harry just defeat Voldemort?" Ginny asked.

"Poor naive Ginny." Hermione hissed and moved to caress Ginny's cheek. Ginny flinched when the cold, pale fingers brushed across her skin. "It isn't over until the fat lady sings. Though I would prefer her to scream."

"Patience." Harry chided. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean?" McGonagall had found her voice at last it seemed.

"Well Minerva, I would assume that Dolores is still controlling her reign of terror from the bastions of the Ministry? I would hate to find that Hermione came too late to have her measure of satisfaction." Harry said, his voice pleasant but it failed to mask the malice underneath.

"You're going to kill Umbridge?" Ron asked.

"Your wonderful skills of observation are still intact I see, Ronald. But we're not going to stop at Umbridge. The delightful thing about a Dark Lord is he is a serpent. We can simply remove the head and the body will wriggle about, but it is doomed without him. But the Ministry, there is a fierce hydra, whose heads you may chop off, but will simply grow more. No what you have to do for a hydra is crush it so completely there is nothing left. We're going to overthrow every corrupt official we can find, and then we're going to retire to a nice place in the country." Hermione said snidely.

"Harry you're going to do this?" Ginny asked, desperate for reassure that this was still Harry.

A dark laugh found its way from Harry Potter. "You think I will let them marry me off to some witch, work at a job where I cannot threaten anyone, and simply forgive and forget everything they've put me through? You really haven't learned anything Ginny."

"I've learned plenty!" she shouted. "Harry, this isn't the only way." she pleaded.

Severus Snape spoke at last. "And what of the remaining Death Eaters? They will not simply surrender."

"I've always rather fancied a nice manor." Hermione remarked, darkened eyes gleaming with something dark and promising.


End file.
